


The Worst Thing You Will Ever Read I Am Sorry

by macabrekawaii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: I AM SORRY, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabrekawaii/pseuds/macabrekawaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musclebeast porn as requested during Octopimp's livestream, that led to his recording the opening, that, I believe, led to all of livestream crashing for a while. I hate you for making me write this. I love you for making me write this. No, I think I just hate you. And not the sexy hate, just the regular kind. JUST THE REGULAR KIND.  This is my first homestuck fic, THIS is my first homestuck fic. It is deliberately written AWFULLY and in the style of crappy chicklit erotica. FML</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Thing You Will Ever Read I Am Sorry

The musclebeast raises its majestic head, alerted to your presence by the sound of your labored breathing. You approach cautiously. The chill morning air surrounds you like a cloak and you can see steam rising from the hot loins of the creature before you. You reach out a gloved hand, shaking with delight and awe. You are close now, close enough to breathe in the heady scent of the beast’s masculine aura. It is intoxicating. The musclebeast snorts, and releases a soft whinny but makes no move. You step closer, gently, so gently, your steps falling on the ground like soft snow. You can see its body clearly now-- its rippling, sinewy frame, the curve of its neck, the thick ropes of muscle barely contained beneath the flesh.. Holding your breath, you reach out and press your fingertips to the beast's neck. It's skin is warm and velvety smooth and you feel dizzy with excitement from the brief contact. You pull away, eyeing the creature nervously. What would it do at a firmer touch? You take one more brave step forward and caress down it's shoulder, delighting at the firm body beneath your hand. The beast makes a low, breathy noise and you see it then-- its member. The very height of masculine pleasure. The beast's bulge is enormous, almost defiantly so. It is a drill with which to pierce the heavens. You eye it greedily.

You brace yourself against the tree and spread your legs into the widest stance you can muster. Before you can even hope to prepare yourself, the beast mounts you. Pain washes over you like the ocean lapping a shoreline but it is alright, it is what you expected. It is what you had hoped for. Your body was ready.

You can feel the engorged head scraping through the length of your inner channel. You feel filled, over-stretched, and each thrust brings a searing white burst of pain which causes ripples of pleasure to erupt the entire length of your body. This is extasy. You mean ecstasy. Your mind reels with the experience, overwhelmed by the glory of the moment. You can feel your own bulge hardening with every moment and you move to stroke yourself, gently, so gently, so as not to become lost too soon. The beast thrusts and thrusts, practically sending you up against the tree. Your muscles ache with the effort of holding you aloft but it is yet another sweet sensation. Sweat dribbles down your body in thick rivulets, a rain of orgiastic fluid. The beast whinnies loudly and doubles its efforts and you can sense it is close, so close. You grip yourself tightly and come hard over your hand, shame descending upon your face like a veil. The musclebeast reaches its climax and you cry out, nigh screaming as you are filled to the hilt by its manliness.

You remain there, panting, the cock still pulsating, more and more genetic fluid leaking from your sore hole, forming a pool around your legs. Your arms strain to keep you braced against the tree. Finally what seems like aeons pass and the musclebeast rears up, disengaging itself from your body. You slump to the ground and turn to face the heavenly creature. It peers down at you, snorting deeply. It regards you fondly, eyes shining, then gallops away.

You do believe you require a towel.


End file.
